


I'm in your way, and I'll steal every moment

by ohmcgee



Series: ohmcgee's mallverse [5]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Body Shots, Crossdressing, Dirty Dancing, M/M, alternative universe - retail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 04:02:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4592187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmcgee/pseuds/ohmcgee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The first time Jason sees Tim he's wearing a white oxford with a tie, a pleated, plaid skirt, and perfectly winged eyeliner, chewing on the end of the pen Dick gave him to fill out his application. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm in your way, and I'll steal every moment

The first time Jason sees Tim he's wearing a white oxford with a tie, a pleated, plaid skirt, and perfectly winged eyeliner, chewing on the end of the pen Dick gave him to fill out his application. 

"Oh my god," Steph says, leaning over the counter and grabbing Tim’s face. "Is that _liquid_? Dick, you gotta hire him.” She turns back to Tim. “You _must_ teach me your ways.”

“It’s cool,” Tim says and taps his lip ring with the end of the pen. “He’s gonna hire me.”

Jason snorts as he rips open the tape on a new box of shirts. 

“Yeah?” Steph says. “Why’s that?”

Tim just smiles at her, sticks one of his bigass combat boots out in the walkway and some punk in a Simple Plan shirt does a face plant on the floor, a whole stash of Pokemon merch spilling out of his pockets. “I’m really against shoplifting,” he says with his boot in the middle of the kid’s back. 

The whole store, including Steph, breaks into a round of applause and Dick throws his arm around Tim, laughing, as Roy hauls the punk up and grabs his ear while he dials mall security. 

By the end of the day Jason’s got a new co-worker and a shit ton of inexplicable bitterness to go along with it, but Dick takes him out after they close and shares his vodka and cranberry with him, lets Jason lean on him on the cab ride home and strokes his hair until he falls asleep, so Jason decides it’s not all bad. 

 

***

 

It’s pretty astonishing, actually, how fast Jason’s baseless bitterness goes from zero to full on frothing at the mouth hatred for the kid. 

It’s just. 

The second day he comes in he’s got those six million dollar bluetooth headphones around his neck and he’s wearing strappy heels and Jason immediately has the urge to punch him. It’s awful. He hasn’t felt this angry since -- in a _while_ \-- and he hates it. And in turn he hates _Tim,_ for making him hate. It’s an endless loop of rage and anger and hate and Dick finds him out back when he takes his break, on his third cigarette. 

“Hey,” he says, squeezing Jason’s shoulder. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Jason snaps, doesn’t even know why he snaps at Dick and feels shitty for it immediately after, but he’s not in the mood to apologize for it either.

“Okaaay,” Dick says. “So. How do you like the new kid?” He asks, because he is the most oblivious fucker in the universe, which Jason used to find charming before right now.

“He’s great,” Jason says and smashes the butt of his cigarette into the brick. “He’s awesome. Are you going to make out with him?”

“What?” Dick asks. “Jay, I’m not --”

“Right,” Jason says, bending down to retie his shoe. “Of course you’re not. My bad.”

Then he stalks off, leaving Dick standing there like a confused, kicked puppy. 

They don’t talk for the rest of their shift together and Dick ends up leaving an hour early for some bullshit reason, but also because they’re super slow and they don’t really need him there. In the back of his head Jason knows he should say no when Roy invites him to come over, but Roy’s always a good time. There’s no complications there, no expectations, just fucking amazing orgasms and maybe that’s all Jason needs to clear his head, Roy’s filthy fucking mouth around him, just letting Jason fuck his face until he comes his brains out. 

When he walks into Roy’s shit hole of an apartment with the pineapple juice Roy asked him to pick up, Jason’s fist clenches in the paper bag. Steph’s on Roy’s couch eating a frozen waffle like a taco, Roy’s in the kitchen mixing up some kind of unholy concoction, and Tim -- _fucking_ Tim -- is sitting on the edge of the counter talking to Roy over the blender as he doodles on his nails with a sharpie. 

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” Jason mutters as he puts the pineapple juice in the fridge. 

“Yes,” Tim says. “Isn’t it kind of lame to get Tolkien tattoo?”

Jason reaches back absently, his fingers brushing over the quote on the back of his neck, _in a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit,_ feels his chest go too tight. 

“I dunno,” Jason says, turning around to glare at Tim. “Hey, Roy. Is it lame to get a quote from the book your dead mom used to read you every night permanently inked into your skin?”

“Uh,” Roy says and pushes a plastic cup into Jason’s hand. “Drinks!”

 

***

 

The booze doesn’t do much, but it at least gets Jason to relax a little while Tim sprawls out on the carpet and paints Steph’s toenails while she flips through Netflix looking for something they haven’t already seen six times before. Roy distracts him for a little while by putting his feet in his lap, rubbing his heel back and forth over Jason’s dick while he talks to Tim and Steph until Jason grabs him up and drags him into his room, sucks Roy off until his jaw is sore and the noise in his head goes quiet and all he cares about is the taste of Roy when he comes down his throat. 

He’s feeling a million times better when they walk out of his room, Roy still flushed and boneless, his arm around Jason’s shoulder, giggling into the side of his neck. They go into the kitchen for another drink and when they get back on the couch Tim and Steph are sitting cross-legged playing some stupid slapping game and Steph’s saying, “No, no. I don’t think he is.”

“Oh, he is,” Tim says and pulls his hands away right before Steph can get him. “Trust me.”

“Who’s what?” Roy asks, falling in Jason’s lap. 

“Dick,” Tim says, frowning when Steph gets him this time, hard enough it leaves red marks on the back of his hands. “Gay. Or at the least bi.”

Jay feels Roy tense up in his lap, or maybe Roy’s tensing because he’s tensing. 

Steph shakes her head. “You’re wrong, new kid. I’ve never seen him with a dude the whole time I’ve worked there.”

Tim laughs and pulls his hands away, looks over at Roy and Jason. “Never, huh?” He smirks and everything after that is kind of a flash. Roy tumbling out of Jason’s lap, his drink spilling everywhere, Tim’s t-shirt ripping when Jason yanks him off the ground, Tim grinning at him through a mouthful of bloody teeth, Jason’s sore knuckles. 

“Don’t,” Jason snaps, holding Tim against the wall. “talk about shit you don’t know.”

 

***

 

Tim’s mouth is still a bit puffy looking on Monday morning and Jason’s had the weekend to cool off, so when he sees him he almost feels like a dick for punching him. Almost, but as soon as he opens his mouth he can hear what Tim said that night, hear him talking about Dick like he fucking _knows_ him, and yeah. Still, they apparently have to fucking work together, so he takes Dick scheduling them on break together as a really obvious hint and finds Tim sitting in the food court picking the tomatoes out of his burrito and sits down with him.

“So,” he says. “Sorry for hitting you in the mouth.”

Tim shrugs, makes an indignant face at a green onion and flicks it across the room. It probably lands on someone else’s food, but Jason doesn’t pay attention. “I deserved it.”

“You -- what? You did not deserve me busting your lip just because you said --”

“It’s none of my business who or what Dick likes to fuck,” Tim says. “I don’t usually even talk about that with people. Steph brought it up. Then you and Roy came in and I was an asshole about it. I can be an asshole sometimes.” Then he takes a huge bite out of his burrito, looking totally unapologetic, and it’s weird. Jason almost hates him _less_ because of it. 

“Okay,” Jason says. “So we’re cool? You’re not going to jump me or try to choke me out or anything?”

“Depends,” Tim says with a mouthful of beef and beans and cheese. It’s pretty disgusting. “How do you think I look in these tights?”

“Uh,” Jason says, looking underneath the table at the rainbow striped tights Tim’s got on under his shorts. “They’re sweet, man.”

Tim nods and offers Jason one of his churros. “We’re cool, then.”

 

***

 

Sometimes Tim shows up to work in red lipstick and mascara and whatever dress they had on the clearance rack last week, sometimes he shows up in faded jeans and tattered chucks and a button up, his hair spiked up and all his piercings taken out. 

Then sometimes he shows up in his faded jeans and tattered chucks and a motherfucking tutu, still drunk from Friday night, which was apparently his birthday if the crown on top of his head is anything to go by. 

People come in and leave and Tim gets a couple of funny looks, a couple of idiot kids whispering and giggling and pointing, but nothing like Jason would imagine he’d get. Plus, he usually doesn’t seem to notice and when he does he doesn’t act like he gives a shit, just walks up behind the poor fucks and smiles a frankly terrifying smile and thrusts a flyer in their hands for the big sale coming up.

A few hours into his shift the dude from Foot Locker walks over, smelling like a cloud of Axe and douchebaggery. His hair’s all gelled up and you can see his stupid perfect abs through his ugly ass polo shirt as he leans against the counter and flirts with Tim.

Tim’s wearing a fucking toddler size tutu and a birthday crown from Burger King and Conner’s the fifth fucking guy who’s asked for his number today. 

Jason slams the register shut and announces to the whole fucking store that he’s taking his break. He just doesn’t _get_ it. 

He doesn’t get peace either. On his second cigarette he hears the door squeak open and looks back to see Tim walking toward him, sighs and runs his free hand through his hair.

Tim cops a squat on the sidewalk next to him and pulls out his own pack, digs a lighter out of somewhere and lights one up. Jason blows a smoke ring and Tim matches him, blows double. It doesn’t piss Jason off even more because that would be stupid and childish. Instead he turns his head and exhales right into Tim’s face. 

Tim just smiles back at him, purses his lips and hollows his cheeks, then returns the favor. Jason’s eyes sting but he refuses to blink.

“So,” Tim says, leaning back on his hands. “I think we should just go ahead and fuck each other, probably.”

Jason chokes. “The _fuck._?”

“There’s all this,” Tim waves his hand. “Hostility. Animosity. Sexual tension. Whatever.”

“And you think the solution is to stick your dick in me?”

“Actually,” Tim says, exhaling out of the side of his mouth. “I was thinking you’d fuck me. But I’m flexible.”

“Jesus christ,” Jason mutters and stands up, gets rid of his cigarette. “There is no sexual tension. Or animosity. I don’t even _know_ you, okay? And I don’t really want to. Just stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours, alright?”

“We can fight,” Tim says, leaning back on his hands and tilting his head back enough to look up at Jason. “If you’d rather do that. It’s kind of the same as fucking, you know?”

“Jesus,” Jason mutters and walks back to the store, locking the door behind him so that Tim has to walk all the way back to the mall entrance to get back to the store.

“I’m just saying,” Tim says to him when he walks into the store. “Hostility.”

He sounds a little winded and it makes Jason grin as he hangs up a rack of skinny jeans. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Drake.”

 

***

 

There _was_ no sexual tension. There still isn’t. It’s not tension, it’s just -- maybe he’s starting to see why every person, girl or guy or in between, who comes in the store can’t help but hit on him. Maybe it’s because Steph never shuts up about how Tim’s legs look better in skirt than hers do, maybe it’s because Tim’s skirts keep getting shorter and shorter, or because when he gets bored he leans against the counter and reapplies his lipgloss, drawing attention to his ridiculously obscene mouth. 

Jason still kind of hates him, though he’s really been trying to make an effort to move into something closer to “bitter indifference,” but he’s not _blind_. His dick doesn’t really care how much Jason hates him when Tim hikes his skirt up to scratch his thigh or when he comes back from the Santa station at the other end of the mall with Roy, molesting a goddamn candy cane with his tongue. 

Sometimes when Tim bends over in his stupid skinny jeans to restock the bottom of the case with body jewelry Jason thinks about Tim saying, “ _Actually, I was thinking you could fuck me_ ,” and ends up snapping at Tim more than usual for the rest of the day. 

He’s just so infuriating. He’s tiny and he wears fucking tutus and lip gloss and he somehow still manages to be intimidating as shit. It’s something about the eyes. He’s also rich, Jason’s pretty sure, though he hasn’t cared enough to really find out about his life outside the mall, and he’s apparently some kind of genius, likes to play “guess what German existentialist said this” with Roy when they get really slow. He shows up half-drunk and late constantly, hardly ever does what Dick tells him to, and he gets away with _everything_ , kind of like Jason used to. 

Still, there’s no denying the fact that the kid’s pretty as shit and if circumstances weren’t as they were, if Jason didn’t have to hate every fiber of his being on principle, he’d probably be all over that. 

“Hey, I’m gonna go count down,” he tells Steph. It’s almost ten and they haven’t had a customer in the last twenty-five minutes.

“Sure thing babe,” Steph says, sitting on the edge of the counter reading a comic book. 

Jason stops outside the office door when he hears voices coming from inside, realizes he hasn’t seen Tim or Roy in fucking ever. 

“Jesus your mouth,” he hears Roy say, hears him _moan_ in a way he recognizes all too well. “Yeah, fuck. Just take it. Like that, fuck, Tim. _Fuck._ ”

Jason opens the door just in time to see Tim dragging his hand over his mouth, getting up off his knees. 

“Get out,” he says, looking straight at Roy. He doesn’t mean to be hurt, he doesn’t know _why_ he is, but apparently Roy can see it all over his face and his mouth slips into a frown.

“Jay,” he starts and Jason just shakes his head. 

“Just go home,” he says, looking at Tim’s mouth, shiny and swollen from being fucked. “Both of you.”

“Am I fired?” He hears Tim ask Roy on the way out and Roy’s reply hurts almost more than walking in on the two of them.

“No,” he says. “You weren’t the first one to get a blowjob in that office.”

 

***

 

At some point, Jason starts to wonder how the fuck he turned into an adult. Probably the most adult person he knows. Dick, the fucking manager, still shows up half drunk on weekends. Roy and Tim spend half their time terrorizing the entire goddamn mall instead of _actually_ working there, and Steph spends most of her shift asking Tim for makeup tips and the other half sexting her girlfriend, giving Jason all the juicy bits until he drags her into the office and eats her out. 

Okay, so he’s not _that_ responsible, but somehow he has become the most responsible one in their little group and it’s so fucking weird he convinces Dick and Roy to throw one of their epic get-shitfaced-or-die parties just to prove he still has it in him. 

By eleven o’clock Dick’s kitchen counter is a fucking disaster area, spilled margarita mix and a dozen different bottles on display and Jay staggers into the kitchen, already more than half way to pleasantly trashed, to loop his arms around Roy’s waist and suck on the back of his neck as Roy cuts up a lime.

“Mmm, body shots?” Jason asks against his skin and Roy shivers, leans back into him and forgets about the limes for a minute as Jay licks the taste of beer and tequila out of his mouth. 

“Ain’t a get-shitfaced party without ‘em,” Roy grins and nudges Jay out of the way with his hip. 

The next hour is a bit of a blur, licking salt from between Steph’s tits, Dick’s mouth on his collarbone, drifting up to his throat, then his mouth, Dick’s hand loose in his hair as he kisses him, Steph and Roy wolf-whistling behind them. Roy’s the one that pops his jeans open and salts his hip, squeezes his lime all over Jason’s chest and spends half an hour sucking it all off. When Jason slides his hand down the back of Roy’s jeans and Roy starts grinding on him Dick laughs and ruffles Jason’s hair, says, “ _Kay, I’m cutting you off, kiddo,”_ and drags Jay up against him on the couch.

It’s okay though, Jay’s sticky from lime juice and warm down to his bones and Dick is the only solid thing in the room, feels good against him, his arm around Jay’s shoulders just grounding him there. He’s halfway to passing out when he hears Steph say _fuck_ , looks down and sees Roy and Tim both stripped down to their jeans. Tim’s on his back, his cheeks flushed from the booze, and Roy’s licking all over him, forgetting all about salt or limes or tequila, just mouthing all over Tim’s skin, tonguing the rings in both of his nipples, tracing the word scrawled beneath Tim’s right pec, the abstract geometric shape down his side. Tim arches his back off the carpet when Roy gets to the compass on his hip, making a wet noise when he sucks on the skin there, leaving a dark hickey next to his ink. 

“Fuck,” Jason breathes out and feels Dick squeeze his thigh, says _yeah_ right next to his ear.

Dick pops open Jason’s jeans and slips his hand inside when Tim flips them over, licks at the intricate designs around Roy’s neck, pours a little bit of a shot out onto Roy’s sternum and chases it with his mouth, all the way down to where Roy’s jeans are still open from earlier. Jay closes his eyes and spreads his legs as Dick grips him tight, slowly working him as Tim pulls Roy’s jeans apart and traces the arrows on Roy’s groin with his tongue. 

Dick kisses Jay when he comes, wipes his hands on Jason’s new jeans, and for payback Jason passes out on top of him. 

When he wakes up Tim and Roy are eating olives for breakfast because apparently Dick tried to burn the house down making cheese toast, and talking about soaking gummy worms in vodka for a mid-afternoon snack.

This, Jason thinks, is why someone has to be the grown up.

 

***

 

Roy catches him staring one day while Tim’s talking to a customer. Talking’s really an over-exaggeration. Mostly Tim’s just standing there being stared at. Jason doesn’t really blame the guy, honestly. Tim’s in his fishnets and fuck me pumps today and no one, _no one_ doesn’t go for that. Jason’s seen matronly grandmothers walk by their store while Tim was hanging up posters outside and have a brief sexual crisis. It happens. 

“You know he’d let you,” Roy says, chewing his gum so loudly it makes Jason want to pull out all his teeth. 

“Fuck off, Roy,” Jason says, straightening up the sunglasses. 

“You know you want to,” Roy sing-songs. “Fuck dude, everybody wants to.”

“Everybody _does_ ,” Jason says, immediately hating what a judgemental dickhole he sounds like. It’s not un _true_ though.

“I’m just saying,” Roy says. “We got high the other day and we might’ve talked about you a little bit.”

“Jesus,” Jason huffs, glances up and sees Tim helping another customer, a hipster chick with pink hair that looks like she wants to eat him for dinner. He feels Roy come up behind him, so close he can smell the flavor of Bubblicious on his breath. 

“He sat on my dick,” Roy whispers in his ear. “So I asked him what he wanted to do to you.”

Jason doesn’t say anything, just stands completely still, watches as Tim shakes his little hips to the music as he straightens up a clothing rack with marked down band tees on it.

“Said he can’t stop thinking about eating you out, Jay.”

“Fuck,” Jay swears. “Christ. Enough. Just stop.”

He can still hear Roy laughing at him when he swings the back door open and digs the cigarettes out of his back pocket.

 

***

 

Saturday they go over to the club Kori bartends at and before they start drinking Jason gives Tim and Roy a lecture on the importance of Not Getting Kicked Out Of The Club and Keeping It In Your Pants. 

“Yes, Jay,” they grin in unison and down a row of multi-colored shots together before heading out to the dancefloor. 

Jason’s never really been big on dancing. Dick’s a natural, can move his body the way professional’s can. Jay always teased him that he could make a lot more money working the pole, and Roy, Roy isn’t a great dancer like Dick is, but what he lack in talent he makes up for in filth. He knows just how to roll his hips and grind until you’re not sure if you’re dancing anymore or just straight up fucking with your clothes on. Tim, Jay observes, isn’t either one of those. Tim isn’t so much a dance-r as he is a dancee. People come to _him_ , get their hands all over him, pull him against them, grind on him. Sometimes he gets sandwiched between two people, one hand thrown around the person behind him, one arm looped around the other’s neck, just lets them do whatever they want, and _still_ somehow manages to look like he’s controlling the shots.

Roy drags Jay out there after a couple of drinks, pulls him between him and Dick for a couple of songs, gets his hand in Jason’s back pockets and his thigh between Jason’s legs, encouraging Jason to grind on him. Dick’s behind him the whole time, his body hot and sweaty against Jason’s back, fingers slipping under the edge of his shirt, right above the waistband of his jeans. 

Dick grabs Roy by his hair after a bit and kisses him over Jay’s shoulder and Jay just watches. He doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol or what, but that weird surge of anger and possessiveness and jealousy that spikes whenever he sees Dick touching anyone doesn’t come this time. He waits and waits, but mostly he just get harder watching them make out like that, the way Dick pulls at Roy’s bottom lip with his teeth, Roy’s hands squeezing his hips tighter. 

It’s almost too much though, so Jay slips out from between them and tells them he’s going for another drink. Tim comes up and drapes himself over the bar just about the same time he sits down.

“What can I get you?” Kori asks him and Tim smiles at her, then at Jay, and says, “I’d like a Blowjob, please.”

Kori snorts, but pulls out the Bailey’s and Kahlua, pushes the shot glass over to Tim when she’s done and takes his money. Tim smirks at Jason and leans down, licks some of the whipped cream off top, then crosses his wrist behind his back and closes his mouth over the shot glass and straightens up, tilting his head back, and swallowing the whole shot in one gulp. When he sits the empty shot glass down his mouth is rimmed in whipped cream.

“Jay,” Kori says, grinning. “What can I get you?”

Jason watches Tim lick all around his mouth. “Cocktease,” he says. 

Kori laughs as she grabs the triple sec and the vodka and Jason throws it back as soon as she passes it over, hands her her money, then stands up and wipes the rest of the whipped cream off Tim’s mouth. 

“You should dance with me,” Tim says and just walks off, like he knows Jason’s going to say yes.

Jason almost stays right where he is for that reason alone, but Kori threatens to kick him in the balls if he doesn’t, so he goes, walks up behind Tim where he’s already started swaying to the beat and settles his hands on his hips.

“Jesus, you’re fuckin’ tiny,” he says in Tim’s ear and Tim grins back at him. 

“Not all of me,” He says and grabs Jason’s arm, pulls it around his waist so that they press closer together. Jason’s hand splays out over Tim’s belly, slick and tight, can feel his muscles flexing beneath his fingers as they move together. He knows Tim can feel _him_ , the leather pants Tim’s wearing don’t leave much room to the imagination, and Jason’s pretty much been hard ever since he got sandwiched between Roy and Dick earlier. 

“I can’t believe you get away with this shit,” Jason says as Tim’s nails scrape over the back of his neck, plucking at Tim’s silver top. “How do you not get the shit kicked out of you daily?”

Tim’s arm slips down and then Jason’s being turned around and Tim’s hands are on his hips, dragging him back, grinding against his ass. “Would you fuck with me?” He asks. 

“No,” Jason says honestly, reaching back to touch Tim’s hair, just to have something to do with his arms. His hair is soft, not gelled up like some days, and Jason thinks there’s probably glitter in it. He bites his lip when he feels Tim’s lips brush his ear, then the side of his neck. It’s so barely there and brief that Jason can’t even be sure it’s intentional. 

“I still think we should fuck,” Tim says, slipping his fingers just under the waist of Jason’s jeans. 

“Yeah, I --” Jason begins and then he hears Kori screaming, peels himself off of Tim just in time to see Roy getting the unholy hell kicked out of him. It takes him, Tim, Dick, _and_ one of the bouncers to peel the huge cowboy motherfucker off of Roy, and then _Tim_ tackles the asshole.

They don’t get kicked out, but only because Kori saw the whole thing go down and told them Roy didn’t start it, and by looking at Roy’s fucking face you can tell. Although the other guy didn’t look much better after Tim finished with him. 

“I’ll stay with him,” Jason says after they get out of the club. “Make sure he’s not fucking concussed or something.”

“I’m coming,” Tim says.

“You don’t have to,” Jason tells him. “Dick and I will take shifts. We’ve done it before. It’s nothing exciting.”

“Fuck you,” Tim says and it kind of takes Jason by surprise. That’s more emotion that he’s ever seen on Tim’s face at one time that wasn’t smug satisfaction or something sexual, which honestly, are usually kind of related anyway. “He’s my friend too.”

“Yeah,” Jason says, running his hand through his hair as Roy spits some more blood on the sidewalk. “I guess he is.”

 

***

 

They end up taking two cabs back to Dick’s place since Roy’s shit hole is too small for the four of them and he probably doesn’t have anything except salt and tequila in his refrigerator. Dick’s been up longer than any of them so Jay tells him he’ll take the first watch. Jason gets Roy in bed, gives him some aspirin and warns him he’s going to wake him up every hour.

“So don’t wake up swinging, okay?”

Roy just smiles and kisses him wet and sloppy the way he does when he’s drunk. Jason frowns when he tastes blood on his lip.

“You’re the best, Jaybaby,” Roy says and Jay tucks the covers around him, pulls his door almost shut and goes back into the living room. 

Tim, who Jason doesn’t think _ever_ sleeps, is sitting on the floor with Dick’s box of Lucky Charms, digging out all the marshmallows and watching an infomercial. Jason sits down on the couch and Tim backs up until he’s between his legs, offers Jason a tiny marshmallow star and Jason sucks it off his finger. 

“He okay?” Tim asks and Jason traces the star on the back of Tim’s neck with his fingers, blames it on how drunk he still feels. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I think so. Probably looks worse than it is.”

Tim lays his head on Jason’s thigh and Jason follows the curve of his neck with his thumb, all the way down to Tim’s collarbone.

“I don’t want to fuck you,” Tim says. “Not tonight.”

“Okay,” Jason says. “Wanna paint my nails?”

“Fuck yeah,” Tim grins.

 

***

 

Jason goes home the next morning, fills Steph in on what happened to Roy’s face while he whips up a batch of waffles, takes a shower and crashes for the next four hours. 

He has to work with Tim that night and it’s hard not to think about the way his ass felt in his hands when he’s moving behind him to get to his register, or when Tim bends over in his fucking mini skirt to pick up something that fell off the shelf. It’s also hard not to think about how they talked all night while Tim painted his nails every color of the rainbow, about all the stuff he knows about Tim that he never thought to ask before, like how his parents basically disowned him for not conforming to their ideals, how Dick told him he could come live with him for as long as he needed. 

It’s a slow night so Jason tells Steph to go home early, which of course means they get a rush as soon as she leaves. They spend the next hour busy as shit with customers in both of their lines, the store looking like a hurricane just came through when it’s over. They spend the last hour of their shift cleaning up the mess, straightening the shirts that got unfolded and putting everything back in it’s place. 

Jason finds Tim after he locks up, counting down in the office and thinks about the time he walked in on him and Roy in here, specifically the way Tim’s mouth looked.

He waits until Tim’s got his money put away, then he backs him up against the desk. “What about now?” He asks and Tim licks his lips.

“Fuck yes,” He breathes out and pulls his shirt off, then Jason’s, drags Jason to him and crushes their mouths together as he wraps his legs around him. Jason gets his hand under Tim’s skirt and palms Tim’s dick through his briefs, swallows down every sweet little whimper he makes for him. 

“You want this, don’t you,” Jason says, more of a statement than a question.

“Duh,” Tim says and Jason gets his hands under Tim’s ass, lifts him up and presses him up against the Slipknot calendar, grinds into him. 

“God, I want,” Jason growls into his neck. “Wanna fuck you so fucking bad, but --”

No lube, no condoms. Normally people don’t plan on fucking their coworkers _at_ work, so sue him for not being fully prepared. 

“Don’t care,” Tim gasps, heels digging into Jason’s back. “Just, _fuck_ , yeah, like that.”

“Like this?” Jason says next to his ear, dragging his teeth along it as he grinds their dicks together. 

“Yes,” Tim moans. “Don’t stop. _Fuck_. Wanna ride your dick so bad, Jay. Bet you’d feel so _good_.”

“Jesus,” Jason mutters, grips Tim’s ass tighter, fucks into him like he’s _actually_ fucking him. He hasn’t come like this since he was a teenager, getting off with Roy on their breaks, but Tim’s so fucking hot, tastes like strawberry lip gloss and Dr.Pepper and he’s digging his fingers into Jason’s shoulder like he wants to break the skin. Jason can just imagine how he’d look, just like this but naked, bouncing on his cock, jerking off with that cocky smirk on his face as Jason fucked into him.

“Wanna fuck you too,” Tim pants. “Roy says you like getting your mouth fucked. I can -- oh fuck, right there. Oh god, fuck, _fuck_ , I’m --”

TIm buries the rest of his moans into Jason’s shoulder as he comes, works his hand between them to squeeze Jason’s cock and that’s it. Jason’s squeezes Tim’s ass _hard_ , bites his shoulder as he feels his cock pulse in his jeans, feels like he comes _forever_ , but maybe that’s just how long it had been building. 

He finally kisses Tim after, slow strokes of his tongue, his pants wet and sticky, and he’s not about to do something stupid like admit it out loud, but it’s kind of awesome. 

“I told you,” Tim says, smug grin on his face. “Sexual tension.”

“Oh my god, I hate you,” Jason groans. But they both know that this time he doesn’t really mean it.


End file.
